Thunderstorms
by teddyshoney
Summary: Kurt is afraid of thunderstorms, and Blaine isn't sure how he can make him feel safe. This is in the same universe as Cookies and Daddy's Busy. WARNING: THIS IS AN AGE PLAY STORY.


Kurt hated storms. Even when he was little the first time, he'd hated them, running into his parent's room and climbing between them before he'd feel safe again. As he grew older, he stopped invading his father's bed and chose, instead, to huddle down under his own blankets, which he pulled over his head, trying to pretend that the storm wasn't happening.

After he and Blaine started playing, however, his fear of storms grew worse. Or, so it seemed to Blaine. He'd known his husband didn't enjoy thunder storms, but he'd never known how much he hated them until the first big storm after they began. He woke up to Kurt clutching his shirt for dear life, crying and doing his best to huddle into Daddy.

"Kurt! Kurt!" Blaine said, startled and worried about his reaction. "Is everything okay?"

"D-d-don't like s-st-storms! Scaryyyyyy!" Kurt wailed, hiding his face in Blaine's shirt.

"The storm can't get to you," Blaine reasoned, patting at his back sleepily. "You're safe in here."

But Kurt was having none of it. He clutched and Blaine and cried, his wails growing louder at each clap of thunder.

Blaine was beside himself. He didn't know what to do with a Kurt in hysterics. Especially not little Kurt. When they were playing, Blaine had always managed to see the meltdowns coming before they happened, and so far, he'd been successfully able to thwart them. But this, this was worse than any tantrum. Kurt was terrified, and he didn't know how to make him feel better. Whatever the answer was, rolling over and going back to sleep was not an option.

Sitting up as best he could with a crying Kurt attached to his side, Blaine pulled at him until he was more or less in his lap so he could wrap his arms around him. He cradled his boy for several minutes, whispering to him and shushing him until he was sniffling and hiding in Daddy's arms. "There, there, baby boy," he crooned. "Everything is okay. Can you sit up and talk to Daddy?"

Kurt shook his head no, trying to hide his face further. "Scary," he whimpered.

With some difficulty, Blaine stood, keeping Kurt wrapped tightly in his arms, and carried him to the living room, switching on the light as he went. He plopped down heavily in the rocking chair and set it in motion, keeping a steady rhythm with his feet. In here, the curtains were pulled shut, blocking out a lot of the lightning that had been scaring the boy. The living room was also an inner room, so the thunder wasn't as booming here either.

After rocking for several minutes, Kurt began to peek out. Like a little turtle emerging from it's shell, he peered out and around until he made eye contact with Daddy. Then, he snuggled more deeply into him, positioning himself until he was leaning against Daddy's chest, facing the closest wall, his feet tucked under one of Daddy's legs.

"Hi, baby," Daddy greeted softly.

"Hi," Kurt said, thumb sneaking toward his mouth.

"What's got you so scared?" Daddy asked, bringing a hand up to brush some hair from Kurt's face.

"Thtormth ith thcary," Kurt mumbled around his thumb, his eyes already half closed.

"What was that?" Blaine asked, tugging the thumb from his mouth. "I couldn't understand you."

"Storms is scary!" Kurt repeated, promptly putting his thumb back.

"I see," Blaine said. He wasn't sure how to go about this, but he needed to know what was so upsetting about thunderstorms because he couldn't have Kurt escalating like this each time it rained. "Can you tell Daddy why storms are scary?" he finally settled on.

"Big boomth," Kurt explained. "Bright."

"You don't like the thunder and lighting?"

"Nuh uh."

Just then, another round of thunder boomed throughout their apartment, and Kurt cringed, hiding his face in Daddy's shirt and clutching at him. His breathing became more choppy, and Blaine could feel his heart rate increase. Thinking fast, he picked up Kurt and carried him to the kitchen.

As a child, Blaine hadn't been afraid of much. He'd never worried about a night-night monster or been afraid of the dark. His worries, mostly, had come into play when he went to school. Doing his school work caused him great anxiety, and tests made it worse. He would have nightmares about them, dreaming that he flunked his test and all the children laughed at him. On those nights, he would run into his parent's bedroom, shake his mother awake, and cling to her for dear life. Those were the times when she would make him warm milk to calm his nerves, and it almost always put him right to sleep.

At a loss of what else to do at the moment, Blaine decided to make Kurt warm milk. But, to do this, he needed both hands. He tried to set Kurt down on the counter, but Kurt let out such a pitiful screech, making grabby hands at him and crying even harder that Blaine couldn't leave him there. He picked his boy back up and stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding him tightly in his arms and looking around, unsure of how to make this work.

Finally, he decided to try talking to the baby as he worked. "I'm going to make us some warm milk, okay?" he crooned as he went to the refrigerator. "I'm going to get the milk out, and I'm going to pour some into the pan. Then, we're going to turn on the gas and wait for the milk to get hot." He narrated his every move, noticing that the constant stream of chatter seemed to be making Kurt less nervous. He'd loosened his grip on Blaine' shirt a little and was breathing more normally.

As they waited for the milk to heat, Blaine stood in the middle of the kitchen, swaying Kurt back and forth and bouncing. Kurt had himself cocooned in the curve of Daddy's neck, thumb in his mouth, his eyes fluttering as he was rocked comfortingly. He was just about to drift off when he heard, "Okay, baby boy. Milk's done. I'm going to pour some into our cups now.

Thankfully, Blaine had already set a mug and a sippy cup near the stove, so he was able to pour the milk into them directly from the pan. He added a pinch of cinnamon to each cup then carefully screwed the lid onto the sippy cup before handing it to Kurt.

Kurt whined and pushed it away. "Theepy," he mumbled.

"This will help you feel better," Daddy said, handing him the cup again.

Grumbling, Kurt took the cup and held it in one fist, pillowing his head on Daddy's shoulder again.

Daddy escorted them and his cup of warm milk back to the rocking chair in the living, sat down carefully, and re-positioned Kurt on his lap. "Try it," he urged taking a sip of his own. "You'll like it."

Kurt did as he was told, surprised at how much he liked it. He'd had warm milk before, but never with any flavoring in it. He snuggled into Daddy, enjoying his milk. "Thanks," he mumbled.

The two of them rocked in silence for a while, sipping at their drinks. Kurt continued to cringe and jump at each rumble of thunder and bolt of lightning, but at least he wasn't crying now. Blaine was grateful for the improvement, but he still needed a long term solution. So, he said, "Did anyone ever tell you about why we have thunderstorms?"

Kurt sat up a little straighter. "Nuh uh."

"Well, do you remember the stories you heard when you were in school about the Greek gods and goddesses that live on Mt. Olympus?"

Kurt nodded.

"Well, those gods and goddesses like to go bowling."

At this, Kurt giggled. "They do?" he asked, the first smile of the night lighting up his face.

"Yep," Blaine continued. "They like to bowl. And their bowling pins are so big and their bowling balls are so heavy that they make the thunder sounds."

"What about the lightning?" Kurt asked.

"That's what happens when they get a strike. Zeus throws out a bolt of lightning!" Blaine tickled a bit at Kurt's tummy, getting him giggling again.

"No tickles!" Kurt said, breathy, trying to ward off Daddy's hands. Once the onslaught had stopped, his face became serious again. "Why does it rain if everyone is happy bowling?"

Blaine smiled. This was his favorite part of the story. He couldn't remember why, but it was a story he'd made up as a teen for an English class. He'd never dreamed it would come in handy. "The rain," he explained, taking another sip of milk from his cup, "is the tears of all the gods and goddesses that don't get invited to go bowling."

Kurt looked thoughtfully toward a window, as if trying to decide if he was okay with that explanation. When the next strike of lightning came, he didn't cringe. Instead, he looked up at Daddy. "Another strike!" he said excitedly.

Blaine nodded, smile on his face. "Exactly. One of the gods or goddesses is very happy."

A few more sips from his cup, and Kurt was beginning to feel quite drowsy. He wasn't sure why, but Daddy's story was helping him feel better. Whenever there was a flash of lightning, the panic would rise up, but he would imagine a strong man in a toga dancing, and feel just a little bit better. Silently, he handed his cup to Daddy and burrowed deep into his lap, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes. He let the steady rhythm of rocking, the comforting beat of Daddy's heart, and the mental imagine of the dancing god play over and over again in his mind until he fell back to sleep.

Blaine smiled to himself, glad to have found a way to make Kurt feel better. He finished off his warm milk and decided to leave their cups on the coffee table for now. It was early in the morning, and he needed to get some sleep.

Once Kurt was sound asleep, his heavy breathing morphing into soft snores, he slid out of the rocking chair and switched off the light, padding back to their room. He settled them both down beneath the covers, pulling Kurt close to him and wrapping an arm protectively around his waist. He didn't know if he'd fixed the problem and knew there would likely be more bouts of anxiety from storms, but he felt a bit better knowing that he could handle them. Kurt was trusting him to protect him and keep him safe, and Blaine was determined to never let him down.


End file.
